Eternity is dull.
That's something to mull,
and I would pursue it
if I had time to do it.
She’s an everyday woman
And she’s every woman
Check your watch to see if she’s fashionably late
Consider, mull it over, contemplate
What’s the alternative to waiting on your babe
When you were led to her by astrolabe
Sometimes the pending storm will cover the stars
As the past is covered by scars
When the torrential rains, when the flashing storms
She’s hanging on, Damn right! Your heart conforms
So, I want you to take note
“Find a woman and you’ll find love” a Skynyrd quote
You’ve found the one, and there’s no comparison
And while she’s not a very good dancer
She does everything Fred Astaire does
except backwards and in high heels
A secondhand heart and romancer
And the way she looks gets you in "the feels"
She beat Cancer
And the birthing pangs for Heaven’s sake
Need I go any further
Misery loves company,
That's one thing for sure;
And counting curses as you moan,
Won't bring about a cure;
For thinking 'bout unhappiness,
And things that make you frown,
Aren't gonna help a single thing,
It only brings you down.
Don't sit and feed this sickness,
With worry and distress.
Don't sit and mull it over,
Thus causing self duress.
Your woes will seem so heavy,
That you can scarcely move,
And life won't seem worth living,
Your whole manner will exude,
A kind of awful bitterness,
That eats you up inside,
So count your blessings 'stead of curses,
Cultivate some pride,
In all that God has done for you,
And all the He will do,
And thank Him every day that dawns,
For all He's given you.
You'll find your heart feels lighter,
And you'll smile instead of frown,
If you'll turn your face toward The Son,
Stop staring at the ground.
Emirati Glitterati…sold their soul
All for an arty farty party so dull
Each troll got a very simple goal
Going for gold their Faustian role
Befriend astro knoll on pretend atoll
Look at me vanity but never a lull
Narcissist fantasy look like a doll
Maybe botox detox don't annul
Tax free captivity in goldfish bowl
Not like before well war takes its toll
Rakes get the shakes out of control
Save me plea on every single scroll
Fakes & flakes on the make must cull
Hard not to laugh at whole rigmarole
Tragic they chose their Arabic hellhole
Goodbye to Dubai magic back to Hull
Mull over becoming a prole on the dole
If there was a poll would say Tres Drole
Or on insular influencer peninsula "LOL"
Saw an eerie silhouette of a young witch
her background being the moon so full
jack-o-lantern laughed so did the switch
she rode a straw broom, during the lull
Harvest moon was yellow, bright and rounded
night was pregnant with anticipation, eager to please
a Halloween sight to mull, I myself was astounded
some saw the witch, others feigned a tease
what witch? I have no idea what you are speaking of
But I could still see her there, riding her broom above
my relatives try to ignore things like this quite a bit
If it does not make sense to them, they claim to not see it
There are no steel bars.
Just society's
Natural confines.
Birds fly off freely.
Quick fish swim away.
Men mull over their wrongs.
"Whoa - dude, that's really cool!"
Indeed, son, it's something to mull -
fascinating, never dull,
so vast it is incredible,
yet, smaller than a basketball -
the universe inside your skull.
Today is so mendy
But more a mane that covers busy days
In it I had enough repose
To attack the awaiting wakefulness
Defending the hit ground of possible mendicancy
Thou just don't make this known to my Teddy
For no dream will attends me of absent fantasy
I count the way of moon's disappearance
I recall mouthwash
The water's violence hush
Watching the stars' absence
As the chill of the atmosphere espies
May be the other; thou could recognize human
By what he hath on
Set out at midnight solemnly
To cool off the absent harmattarn triumphantly
And bless it to all prosperity
To compliment the hot spell mildly
I wish all winter back again repair
Thy gath the temple a rounded taunted hair
But all a sudden become far chilly fair
Seeming ambiguous and dull
Hath added me creditability mull
Agile and confidently in full
Let the night builds strength
Not to fight my breath
But hang upon with love, so fortunate
To set me on days singing by favors' consent
Kowtow & kapow..the Bazball supernova
They think it’s all over…well wow it is now
Cool cat merriment to cricket’s detriment
Down tools school for fools experiment
Mules without rules serious impediment
Flunk their funk mission to debunk tradition
Teach each Baz monk flair pizzazz edition
Preach razmattazz and all that jazz sedition
Slam dunk sunk kerplunk fans in remission
Shan’t exult this odd bod Bazball adult cult
Can’t halt Starc’s hefty lefty catapult assault
Another hilarious result and nefarious insult
Inquests as Aussie test conquests take their toll
Pat patrol in control Ben’s men droll rigmarole
Stole our soul so gonna give them some vitriol
Banished to a grassy knole the Bazball totem pole
Farce whole brassy class vanished up their ar*ehole
No need to mull it is time for a cull heads must roll
Cos in Oz they Can’t bat Can’t field and Can’t bowl
We're all tinged by whole dull whinge binge
Cringe impinged by that losing cull twinge
Singed fans on fringe mull know does hinge
On our soul & sole syringe of flaming ginge
Dust off the angels
hang the lights and mull the wine
prepare a hundred thousand welcomes
for the season grows merry
and my hunger for it is as sharp as teeth.
Flip the script, turn away tired work,
give play its moment on the throne
let pleasures combine and laughter chime
let much too much be much too little
All else is detour.
.
.
Songs for this:
daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_34.mp3
She is, a bonnie sweet Lass
Born of Scotland Campbell & Roberts
Heather is her name
Of Crimson royal blue
On the cliffs of Mull of Kintyre
In the midst of the sea
She sings a song , a song of a storm a storm , a shanty
Deep on the green cliffs , the Mull of Kintyre
She sings a song , a song of storm , the heavens on fire
Her love burns amongst the ferns the fire within her heart , a passion to protect her loved ones with hope for her brave heart
She flys high up towards the blue skies above the mountains that part,
She is a bonnie sweet Lass
Born of Scotland Campbell and Roberts
Been writing less poems
Since I got my first iPhone
Cuz it takes longer
The ads annoy me
The keyboard is too tiny
It’s more frustrating
Autocorrect— ugh!
Don’t even get me started!
I know how to spell!
Oh wait, actually
As I write out my complaints
It’s all going well :)
Perhaps most of all
I simply have not made time
(Watching many reels)
So, well, here I am
The poems are jammed in my heart
Waiting to go free
Perfectionism
Might also be restraining
Creativity
It may be too late
For some thoughts I neglected
Not too late for some
I’ve had lots of time
Time to mull it all over
Have to start somewhere…
The party is loud,noise in the air
People all around,
I'm sitting down,
Present.......but not really there.
I linger in the back,a watchful eye
In the background,
Invisible
I see many pass me by.
Interest has left,and all feels dull
No one approaches
Or wants to talk,
My introversion makes me mull.
I could be social,and enter the fray
But it's all a group
And shallow talk,
No deep conversations today.
No good friends for discourse;
I know all here
But still feel a stranger;
All too well,I know this remorse.
I try to mingle,but I've lost the heart
They all seem so........
Uninterested;
So from the crowd,I stay apart.
I try distraction,for my mind,
The food is good
But not much else,
Entertainment is hard to find.
Why,I ask,did I even go?
My hypocrisy
Boggles me,
Why I'm like this,I don't know.
Yet here I am,a wallflower;
Unbecoming for a guy,
I think,
As I wait away the hours.
Maybe I'll find someone,someday,
To talk the boredom
Away with,
Until the party fades away...............
Oh look,they finally started volleyball
volleyball is fun.......
We all have beginnings somewhere,
a place where the soul first took root
and drew its history, fixed a compass
point, a pin in a map to mark its home.
For me it was here
where the horizon began
in a haze of mangrove trees
and broad tidal flats
and boats bellied in mud
when the sea sucked back the river
leaving its gums grinning
under a warm sun. It was here
where my ancestors landed
more than a century and a half ago.
Now manicured to prime real estate,
the tides keep to an orderly flow
within grassy banks overseen
by multi million dollar views.
The mangrove forests have gone,
the swamps sanitised to lawn.
I look across the glistening reaches
of a man made lake to where
the slow drift of sailboats scrape
the bottom of an evening sky.
All seems out of place, not home
and yet I mull as to whether
there is any other beyond this one,
beyond the little sailing boats
and the barking dog nearby.
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